by Ellen Mint
“May I…?”
Her mouth ajar, Nadire looked up into a beaten and weary Emeric. His face and hands were smeared in the makeup she once had on. Even his shirt was still partially unbuttoned as they very nearly…
“Go ahead,” Nadire answered, sliding to the side to give him room.
With a great groan, Emeric fumbled down beside her. He slapped both his palms to his knees and tossed his head back as if he’d just run up a mountain and back. After pulling in a sigh, he said, “I don’t think I know enough curse words to blaspheme properly.”
“Sometimes I just make them up,” she said. “-Ing words works best.”
A beautiful laugh broke up the maudlin man, but it was soon smothered by the truth. “I’m…I’m sorry for…”
“It’s not, it wasn’t entirely…” Nadire both wanted to excuse him while also blame him. Damn right it was his fault. If he hadn’t started this lawsuit, if he didn’t force her to spend all this time with him, if he wasn’t who he was none of it would have happened.
She moved to lean back, but the freezing metal of the bench pressed on her naked shoulders. A great shiver rocked Nadire’s body, her arms winding about her to cup in as much warmth as possible. “Here,” Emeric said while sliding off his suit jacket and draping it across her shoulders as a shield.
God save her, the scent of his body nearly enveloped her waning spirit. “Thank you,” she said, not knowing what else to say. So he’d tracked her down in the bathroom. Began to berate her. Kissed her.
And she wanted him to. Maybe not so much the arguing, but the kissing, the stroking, the…
“What will you do now?” she asked, turning to gaze at a man who looked about to crumble in half.
Emeric hooked his hands behind the back of his head and bent over to his knees. His elbows locked to his thighs as he took in a deep breath. “I’ve taken pictures of the letters. They’re not as good as translating in person, but… Head home, try and pick back up what I keep putting off. God knows the office is in crumbles. Never…never see you again.”
His voice plummeted with the last thought, the sound of tears crinkling through the words. It was right. Mr. Weir would talk her father into keeping her out of the courtroom. Perhaps not by going into detail, but by insisting that Nadire wasn’t needed for such a minor issue. She belonged at the workshop helping to prepare for Christmas.
Trapped in the kitchen baking cookies while the men did all the dirty work.
“It’s my fault,” Emeric spoke, his headlock breaking as he struggled to sit up. He kept switching positions like none were comfortable. “I shouldn’t have… I swear, I do have control of my…self, most of the time.”
They’d lasted a month sharing the same space without even a glancing touch. And instead of dissipating her crush, it only amplified the lust until something had to explode.
With a sigh, Nadire leaned back, his jacket cushioning her while she stared across the city skyline. “I kept thinking, given enough time, I’d get over you.”
“Get over me? Makes me sound like a stomach flu.” His voice wore the wounds of the day, but she’d swear there was a laugh struggling to escape too.
“You know what I mean.”
“That I induce chills, vomiting, and require a light seltzer to calm your body?”
A chuckle broke through the ocean of misery, Nadire shrugging her shoulder into him as a response. “But it didn’t work. Why didn’t it work? I’ve never…” Great Nadire, tell him about your pathetic past. She could feel him peering over at her, wondering, trying to ferret out that half-truth she let trail off. “I don’t grow attached to people easily.”
“You’ve never married?” he breathed, same as the complaint her mother forever dropped on her head.
With terse lips, Nadire shook her head. “I’ve never met anyone that I fit with. That I wasn’t always on for. And, in time, keeping aloof was easier than trying to comport myself to be with someone.” She felt diseased for admitting such, the hundreds-year-old woman who couldn’t get a single man to love her. Flitting her eyes over to a man in nearly the same boat, she asked, “What about you? Did you marry?”
Emeric’s lips parted. “Almost.”
“Get cold feet?” She tried to laugh, but he was silent while digging his fingers against the knees of his trousers.
“No. I…I was young still. Truly young. Not, you know. And she was the purest girl I’d ever met, barely even a white lie to her perfume. So I couldn’t go into a marriage lying to her. The night before the wedding I told her the truth, showed her who I was. And I never saw her again.”
“Emeric, I’m…” Nadire found herself reaching a comforting hand over, her heart aching for him, but it froze before making contact. Their skin touching was what landed them in this place. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled, stuffing her fingers into the jacket pockets instead.
“Since then, well… I mean, I’m no saint, but.” His fumbling, flat joke paused and he turned to stare at her. Not just at the pretty facade that’d seen centuries fall away, but the eyes and soul crinkled by such age. “I found work more fulfilling than the fear of…”
“Yeah.” Nadire nodded, trying to keep the tears sucked into her eyes so they didn’t smear off her false lashes. “Yes, I know what you…how you feel. Mean.”
Silence rolled down the street. Oh, the life of the short-lived humans untouched by a divine’s gifts kept on. Cars needed to arrive at their destinations. The water-specked stoplights flickered back and forth from red back to green, people spoke and shouted to be heard above the din. But around the two not-quite-gods was the stone silence of eternity.
Nadire let her eyes flicker over the man burdened by the same etherealness as herself. Years of being outside forever looking in, your life dedicated to those who would never understand you. She spent so long focusing on the differences, on their fathers at war, at how wrong they had to be, she missed all the commonalities.
“What now?” Emeric asked her.
She’d return to the North Pole. Pick up as if she hadn’t spent the last month on this endeavor. Have to trust that her father could follow court orders this time without her. But that wasn’t what he wanted to hear, or know.
“We could leave,” Nadire whispered to the air, her voice soft as if she feared anyone listening in.
“What?” Emeric chuckled. “Run away?”
“Find a cabin somewhere. Nestled deep in the mountains, snow twenty-feet deep, hasn’t been seen by another human in months.”
Nadire would be perched upon a stump watching Emeric, his shirtless body glistening from exertion while swinging an ax to cleave firewood. The roaring hearth, popping with its sacrifice, as the pair of them snuggled together on the sofa. She’d wear just his long shirts to keep warm, and he…he’d require nothing at all.
It’d give them time to test the limits of their bodies, their hearts, see if this impossible attraction had a breaking point. If they could eventually wear away the bond after weeks of love-making by snowfall, or if there was so much more than either could understand.
What a lovely idea.
Emeric’s usually crystal sharp eyes were hazy with a fog of memory overtaking them. He turned those to her, his fingers lifting as if he ached to cup her cheek. To pull her to his lips so she could whisk him away to such a promise.
“You belong in the North Pole,” he whispered.
“And you belong at your father’s side, wherever that may be,” she said, realizing she had no idea where the Krampus’ base of operation was.
A slow smile wound up Emeric’s lips but pain tugged on the corners as if ready to yank it into a frown. “I’d love to tell you, but…”
“It’s a secret?”
“Yes, let’s go with that.” He shied away from the truth. There was no point in telling her because this was over. It was never meant to be anything more than a chance encounter, but somehow it kept being played over and over like a song that wouldn’t leave her mind.
Accepting his jacket, Emeric folded it on his arm. “Tell me, is there really a costume party?”
“Yes,” Nadire insisted, “the company likes to throw one every year. Surprise surprise, we’re rather big into holidays.”
“And the daughter of the CEO just happens to show up?”
Nadire’s smile flitted away and she stared at the sidewalk. “I can’t make the Christmas party. Anything after Halloween is impossible so, it’s my one chance to be social.”
“Then I should not keep you.” Emeric stumbled a step back from her. For a moment, Nadire’s body leaned towards his, as if she didn’t want to leave him, didn’t want to lose this connection. But it was over.
She wished she could say it was fun while it lasted, but she spent so much time fretting during that it was impossible to say. They were just too different to ever work.
Holding her hand out, Nadire said, “Goodbye, Mr. Hellswarth.”
Emeric snorted at the formality as he picked up her hand in his. But he brought his other hand around to swaddle hers in his great grip. Barely a breath, he whispered to the Saint’s daughter dressed like a devil, “I wish you all the luck in the world, Engel.”
Before she did the foolish thing of racing to kiss him, Nadire stumbled back into a windstride. All she left for him were a handful of snowflakes to caress his face.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“MR. HELLSWARTH?”
Emeric turned his head, aware of his slumping posture. He tried to sit up to greet the clerk. She danced back on her toes at his look and said, “The judge will see you now.”
“Thank you,” he nodded, hands fishing for the stack of precedent and contract law he’d spent long nights digging through. It kept him from wondering what she was doing.
It was mid-November, nearly a month since that snake in a suit found the perfect blackmail against him. While Emeric gritted his teeth with every phone call, fearing he’d be accused by Nicholas, by the University, be disbarred in general…nothing came. Only silence whistled through his ears as he went about the motions.
“You ready, Vati?” He turned to his father who was in his second-best suit. While the man preferred loose linens, fur, and cold water on the face for a wash-up, a good haircut and shave hid away all of the centuries that lingered in Mirek’s wake.
“Let’s get this over with already.” Mirek slapped his hands together and leapt to his feet. Emeric wished he could be so jolly, but this was going to be a long fight.
They’d begun meeting on neutral territory, just the lawyers. Mr. Myra was busy with his work. Which meant that lickspittle Trevor and Mr. Weir were free to try and gang up on Emeric. But he had the documents. Not only the contract in full, translated to whatever damn language they wanted proving that Nicholas agreed to share the holiday with his father, also the centuries-long letters that showed a kinship between the two. It was leading that into the admission of an oral contract that had Emeric on edge.
Weir wouldn’t even listen, no doubt on orders of Nicholas, but Emeric wasn’t about to back down now. Even if the man stood up and told the entire court system about catching Emeric literally red-handed with Nadire, he wouldn’t stop. This had to have an ending, and he and his father were both gifted a long time to fight it even after Mr. Weir ceased to be.
While placing his work on the little table, he glanced over to find the defendants already seated. There was Weir puffed up in his suit, and Nicholas… Instead of that grey striped one that Emeric saw in every other court appearance, he wore a suit coat of red as bright as holly berries.
This near to December it seemed he couldn’t escape the glimmer. Or, perhaps he wore it for sympathy. How could the state once again put Santa Claus in jail?
Emeric flexed his hand into a fist, feeling a scrape of the claws over his palm where nothing should be. It was growing stronger for all of them. He wondered what Nadire looked like as Christmas came upon them? Probably a halo of gold followed her everywhere she went.
The image brought a smile to his lips before his heart reminded him that he’d never know.
“Gentleman,” the judge began, speaking before she even fell into her chair. She wanted to get this over with. “Let us begin, yet again.”
“Your honor,” Emeric took the lead, “we submit to the court proof that the defendant, Nicholas of Myra, has—in fact—maintained a close friendship with Mr. Hellswarth. If you will turn to the evidence dated…”
Like a spinner weaving a tapestry even with flames licking the wheel, Emeric brought together every snippet of the letters he was able to translate. He pieced together how his father and Nicholas met, their joining forces with a boilerplate contract gifted to other assistants of Father Christmas. How through the years, even as the others fell away, Mirek Hellswarth remained steadfast at Nicholas’s side. It was as he was leading to the dissolution that Weir spoke up.
“Your Honor, the fact a contract was created has never been in question. The prosecutor’s client worked with mine for many years.”
“For his company, you mean,” the judge clarified, unable to swallow the truth and shying towards the lie.
“As you say,” was Weir’s careful dodge. “The issue is this sudden assumption that, despite Mr. Myra and Mr. Hellswarth agreeing to go their separate ways, the Krampus thinks he deserves special compensation years later.”
Mirek and Emeric both froze at the K-word, their eyes narrowing simultaneously at the lawyer who chose it specifically. “Krampus?” the judge tipped her head in confusion.
“Is that not one of Mr. Hellswarth’s nom de plumes? If we are entering all of Mr. Myra’s into the court records I only assumed…”
“We do not hide what names my father is known under,” Emeric announced, quickly falling on this grenade. “It did not seem relevant as the Krampus name is rarely, if ever, mentioned in the documents.”
The judge leaned to the stenographer who looked white as a sheet while plucking at keys. “Put down that he’s the Krampus so we can move on.”
“Yes, your Honor,” the stenographer gulped. Clearly, he knew the legend and stared at his father’s head as if expecting to find horns. Wonderful.
“If I may, your Honor,” Mr. Weir leapt ahead of the table, planning to throw his weight around almost literally. He paused beside Emeric, the man meeting him an inch lower than eye to eye. But Weir knew he had dirt on him, and a sneer along with ‘boy’ rolled on his lips.
Waving her hand, the judge let Weir take the floor. “This is all preposterous. They claim that after an agreed-upon dissolution, out of the blue my client changed his mind. Invited this Krampus back into his fold. And then their client waited nearly sixty years later to bring these facetious charges, while the net worth of Mr. Myra’s company skyrocketed.”
Emeric moved to object, there was no proof that they were lying in any capacity, but Weir turned his cold shark eyes on him. “This is a waste of everyone’s time and they know it.”
With that final jab, Mr. Weir turned back to his side, his gait swinging as if he just won the entire case. As if there wasn’t still ten pounds of research, documents, and precedent for Emeric to mine.
A hand slapped the table, the sound reverberating through the courtroom. Gulping, Emeric turned to look not at Mr. Myra, but his father who slammed the table again for good measure. “Damn it all, Nick. You know what you said. You told me I could come back. It’s in the damn thing you made me sign in the first place.”
“What’s that, goat? I can’t hear anything but bleating.” Mr. Myra dug a pinkie into his ear and glared across the aisle.
“You shook on it.” Mirek refused
to sit down even as Emeric tried to yank him into his seat. He kept leering towards the old saint, who was also ignoring his lawyers. “You agreed should the worst come to pass that I could return.”
“And you said you couldn’t be bothered!” Nicholas screamed, his fists bunched up. While the threat of bodily harm didn’t worry Emeric, it was the sign of tears in his jolly face that sent him reeling. Anger, snide comments, cutting remarks, those Emeric came to expect. The tears didn’t come until the checkbooks came out. What was going on?
Mirek fell silent too, both old men glaring at the carpet of justice as the river of time rolled between them. With a locked jaw, Mirek mumbled, “You don’t understand.”
“No, I get it. I do. You think after all this time, after what you said that you can muscle back in. That you think you deserve a second chance!” Nicholas leapt from his chair. His lawyers both tried to grab his coat, to tug him in place, but the old man simply faded out of their grasp.
Emeric heard not only the creak of wood but the unmistakable stomp of hooves. He needn’t glance down to see the tell-tale Krampus signs. But a few of the others in the room all scrunched up in confusion as they tried to understand the sound of a goat walking the halls.
Before Emeric could stop his father, or even hope to, both old men drew up beside each other. “You’re a fool, Nick. You always were.”
“I know why you’re mad, Mirek. Why you’re doing this. You can’t accept the truth. After everything you did, every night we walked the earth, you meant nothing. The world went on without you, Hellswarth.”
Saint Nicholas and the Krampus glared eye to eye, Emeric uncertain if he could pull either off each other should the worst come to it. God, in this state, would the security here even stop them? No one knew what happened if you tried to shoot an anthro, even the Easter Bunny certain to stay away from blottoed gunmen.
With a slow shake of his snowy head, Nicholas stepped back. His neck bent, his eyes skimming the carpet instead of his old friend and new enemy as Santa Claus returned to his chair. Just before sitting down, Mirek whispered, “Seems to me, you let the world turn to shit and it’s eating you up inside.”